


And To See Him Smile

by Nagaina



Category: RG Veda (Manga)
Genre: CW: Eventual soul-crushing tragedy, Multi, Prequel, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 14:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18367547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagaina/pseuds/Nagaina
Summary: Before RG Veda, there was a war that decided the rulership of Heaven, and two gods whose lives collided in the midst of it.





	And To See Him Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is: my very first fanfic, written during my senior year in college, more than twenty years ago, back when it was entirely proper and correct to double space after periods. I'm currently hammering it into a more modern format and making slight tweaks to the text -- it's still technically a work in progress though at the point where it stops, the first arc is complete.

 

"Have I mentioned recently exactly how much I hate all this courtly,"  Taishakuten paused, searching for something that resembled a polite term, 

and finally went on without it, "dung?"

 

"Yes, my lord," the elderly body servant fussing with the precise  drape of his cloak replied serenely, "About two or three hundred times a  day, now."

 

The Raijin threw a look over his shoulder that would have thoroughly  cowed  a lesser being; the ancient servant merely raised his eyebrows in  the sort of remonstrative gesture bestowed on gritsy three-year-olds.  Taishakuten didn't miss the significance and  subsided into what he sincerely  hoped wasn't a petulant silence. The old man finished his ministrations,  adjusting the trailing ends of his cloud-grey cloak into an aesthetically pleasing configuration, poking, prodding, shifting, straightening, and generally guiding  the court armor and clothing Taishakuten suffered to wear away from  comfortable and into presentable. With a satisfied sound, he presented a  mirror and the Raijin — God of  Thunder, General of the armies of Heaven,  whose name was feared, and cursed, by all the tribes of Mazoku — regarded  himself with little amusement. 

 

"I look like a silvered carrot."

 

"You look magnificent — you will slay all the maidens with your  charms and will carry away the princess of some clan across your  saddlebow," the old man's eyes glittered with some humor, "Or, failing that,  you will at least not look like a fool."

 

"That's your opinion."  

 

"Taishakuten!"

 

"I have to get it out now, or I will barely manage to be polite before the Emperor  and the entire Heavenly Court," Taishakuten managed between clenched  teeth, "And even I know there are worse things than failing to present a  pleasing image. Burning sky, but I hate court events!"

 

The rising winds rattled the walls of the tent and Taishakuten drew a  deep breath, slowly unknotting his hands from the clench they had  unconsciously crept into. The servant bowed deeply in acknowledgment of  both the logic and the Raijin's knowledge of his own character, turning  and parting the curtain that divided the pavilion into its two sections. His  departure left Taishakuten more or less alone, which was a state he always  sought just before events such at this, and which he was rarely allowed  to attain.

 

Court. A shudder rippled through Taishakuten's muscular frame.  Give him a horde of demons — they could be dealt with in a manner more to  his own liking. Courtiers, on the other hand.....Very quietly, and very  precisely, the general cursed the Emperor, the entire Heavenly Court, and  himself in each of the languages he knew. The Emperor, for summoning him  to Zenmi-jou to be honored at the Summer Court for his skill and success  in beating back the Mazuko tribes that constantly threatened the fragile  borders of Tenkai, the Heavenly Court, for its mere existence as an artifact  of government, and himself, for actually being persuaded that making an  appearance was a good idea rather than pleading weariness for a winter of  constant battles and a spring of laying the dead to rest.

 

The messenger from Zenmi-jou had arrived at Taishakuten's northern  headquarters at the same time as the warm breezes from the south began  taking their precedence, and the rains stopped carrying the chill of snow and  the wind no longer tasted of ice, and of death in cold places in the mountains.  It mattered little to the Raijin that the Mazuko dead had outnumbered his  own, it was death nonetheless and the mountains of the northern kekkai had  drunk the blood of legions; the valleys and forested glens were rich with the  gift of the fallen. It had not been a quick or clean campaign, nor a warm winter,  and even he had not been certain of success, even with the forces of Ryuu-ou  pressing the attack in the west; not until the last battle, when the warlord of  this particular tribe had gone down beneath his sword and their resistance  had broken, had he been certain any of them would leave the north alive. The  mopping up that had followed was, truth to be told, still going on under the  command of his very capable field second, and involved digging guerilla bands  of Mazoku raiders out of their strongholds in the mountains and putting them,  quickly and cleanly, to the sword. 

 

He had ridden in from one such expedition shortly after sunset, splattered in mud and blood and so tired it was as if he had never known sleep, to find an overdressed and perfumed courtier sitting uncomfortably in the staff room of his pavilion with a politely worded command to present himself at Zenmi-jou to be honored for the successful completion of the northern campaign...and, of course, the delectation of the Heavenly Court. Taishakuten could only imagine the sort of word that had preceded him south, in the mouth of the courtly messenger who had stared at him with the sort of horror common in those whose weapons were for decoration when faced with one whose sword was still flecked with the blood of demons. He was not looking forward to this with the anticipation of any pleasure at all.

 

If he had never been to court before, if he retained any romantic  notions about the nature of the Heavenly Minions that circled around the  Emperor's throne like scavenger birds, it might have been different. But he  had, in fact, seen them for what they were, and they, no doubt, knew him for  what he was, and Taishakuten seriously doubted that there would ever be  anything like comfort, or peace, between them. The Emperor's toys were born  high into their respective clans, they held place and title by the privilege of  their birth; blood of a different kind had assured them of their futures, the  lands they would administer, the lives they would lead, the comfort they would  enjoy. The Raijin, granted his title and his responsibility by the ambition that  drove him and the strength that he carried with him, had not been born of a  noble house or clan, had no parent to assure his passage into the realms of  power, no family name to cement his claims, and no purity of blood to  display his legitimacy as a powerful man within the world of the court. He  had risen, through skill and effort, had paid the price of his success in blood- his own, his enemies' — and had earned what he held. And it was at moments  like this, surrounded by the hand-picked honor guard that had accompanied  him to the capital, who were themselves surrounded by the camps and honor  guards of other generals, of nobles who had arrived to take place in the hills  around the great lake that cradled Zenmi-jou, that he most felt the need to  remind himself of that.

 

His head rose slightly, taking on its accustomed damnably arrogant  posture, his lips curving back in a smile that held its usual trace of  contemptuous amusement. His silver eyes became mirrors that reflected,  and showed nothing of what passed within him, and, with a purposeful  stride that spoke of perfect confidence, he glided from his pavilion to do  battle.

 

***

 

Silvery laughter carried up from the inner garden of Zenmi-jou and 

stopped Ashura-ou where he walked in the gallery overlooking it. The 

sound was contagious, and the Guardian of Tenkai felt an amused noise 

working its way up his throat as he stole on soundless feet through the 

forest of fluted columns that supported the gallery and gazed down over the 

low wall that protected the unsuspecting from walking off the edge and 

taking a highly unpleasant fall. Below, amid lushly flowering jordanairres 

and expanses of perfectly manicured lawn, the young son of Yasha-ou and 

the equally young daughter of Karura-ou were playing a game that involved 

a small ball and a good deal of rolling, tumbling, and wrestling in what 

were no doubt extremely expensive court costumes. The little Princess 

of the Karuras, Ashura-ou noted with some amusement, was giving as 

good as she got and, as he watched, little Yama took a tumble that landed 

him in one of the lily ponds scattered about like wet traps for the young and 

the unwary. He turned away quickly, before his laughter could betray him, 

and was betrayed by another laugh anyway. A pair of alarmed exclamations 

from the garden below drew his attention further down the wall, where 

Ryuu-ou leaned on the divide and called down to the children.

 

"You two better find your parents and clean up — the procession will 

be starting soon!"  Her voice, more commonly heard barking drill commands 

across the parade field, was sweet and dark and elicited the same instant 

obedience from the children below as it did from the troops she trained. A 

pair of sweet voices replied in affirmation, followed by the sound of 

running footsteps; Ashura-ou watched them flee, his lips curving in the 

softest and faintest of smiles.

 

Ryuu-ou saw the expression and matched it before he could hide it 

again, her vivid blue-green eyes glittering in her elfin face, her expression 

absolutely pixieish. "Be careful, Ashura-ou, your face may crack."  Her 

voice held the gentle, teasing tone that only she could use with impunity. 

"Or else the matchmakers may assume that your smile was for me and not 

for the children, and rumor will have us married before the end of Court."

 

"Rumor already has us married, committing adultery, and engaging 

in all varieties of debauchery with or without one anothers' consent, my 

sweet Nagaina," His smile curled slightly wider at the blush the familiar use 

of her childhood name always evoked, "My smiles alone cannot possibly 

intrigue them more than my failure to smile."

 

"Ashura!"  Ryuu-ou's hands plastered to her cheeks in an effort to 

keep her fair complexion from showing her embarrassment so visibly, "You 

are completely awful, you know — the least you could do is deny it once or 

twice and give me the illusion of chastity to present to a future husband!"

 

"Well, you are at least now admitting you will marry — at some future 

point," He added, tone dripping amusement at the flash of fire in her eyes 

and the defiant toss of her head.

 

"In the far distant future!  You'd think the heavens will fall if I fail 

to gratify the court's urge for a wedding — immediately!"  She rolled her eyes 

toward the perfect blue arch of the sky, untroubled by cloud or wind. "I 

notice," she added, drilling her finger into the breastplate of his ceremonial 

armor, "that they do not harass you about it with quite the same...persistence."

 

"That is because, with me, persistence is not rewarded with your 

lovely flashing eyes — or a maidenly blush," Ashura-ou captured her hand 

and turned it, lowering his forehead to the back of her wrist with the utmost 

respect and gravity, golden eyes glittering teasingly.

 

"Oh, they are all afraid that you'll lose your temper and toast them 

black," Ryuu-ou snatched her hand back and refused to blush again.

 

"Exactly," Ashura-ou replied with perfect serenity, "My Lady Ryuu-ou, 

I would be honored if you would allow my humble self to escort you into the 

presence of our Lord and Emperor."

 

"Humble!" Ryuu-ou's laugh trilled again, but she gave Ashura-ou her 

arm. "I can hardly wait to see what the gossips make of this. In fact, I 

wonder what they will make of the fact that you failed to hide in Ashura-jou 

until the last possible moment to make a polite appearance."

 

"They cannot possibly be further from the truth than they already  are, Ryuu-ou — I no longer even bother to speculate." The smile vanished as  they progressed deeper into the royal palace, the mask of cool invulnerability  that he always wore in the presence of the Heavenly Court slipping over his  impossibly handsome face as Ryuu-ou watched. As always, the transformation simultaneously unnerved and irritated her — unnerved, because even she, who  knew him so well, felt she did not know him at all in moments such as this,  and irritated, because he felt he needed to adopt such a posture in her presence.  Not that, she was forced to admit, upbraiding him about it actually did any  good — he simply gave her the charming expression that had melted stonier  hearts than hers and she promptly forgot why she was so angry at him...until  the next time he did it.

 

Even she, inured against it by years of strenuous denial, was forced to 

admit they made an eye-catching pair as they made their way through the halls 

of the palace, currently filled almost to the rafters with nobles of all degrees, 

dignitaries of every imaginable variety, ambassadors, entertainers, casual 

onlookers, and the rest of the rabble that gathered whenever the Heavenly 

Court was called into the capital. He, tall and elegant in gold and white and 

deepest black, dark hair falling to his shoulders like a spill of satin that only 

partially disguised his delicately canted ears and particularly emphasized the 

brilliant gold of his eyes; she, slightly smaller and more slenderly built, short-

cropped red hair a perfect complement to aquamarine eyes, body sheathed 

in gleaming dragon scale armor. The characteristics of the clans Ashura 

and Ryuu functioned in such perfect opposition and complete harmony that 

many wondered how they could even be friends, they were so different, and 

yet the differences were the fundament of their relationship. She was quick 

and fierce and fiery; he was deliberate and controlled and coolly even-tempered. 

Her anger flashed like a stroke of lightning, and then vanished like the same, 

leaving little damage behind and only the memory of the thunder; his rage 

was so cold it burned, and left scars, even in those it barely touched. Her 

impulses were his deliberately calculated moves; his dispassionate heart was 

her heart of fire. She was the only person in the Tenkai who could publicly 

upbraid him for any reason without incurring a taste of his wrath; he was the 

only person in the Tenkai who could call her by her given name and tease 

her mercilessly without the conversation ending in a swordplay. Their 

friendship was founded in their ability to transgress each others' boundaries 

with greater or lesser degrees of impunity. Their relationship was also the 

stuff of annoying courtly drama, since every matchmaker, malicious gossip, 

and rumormonger in the Heavenly Court had an opinion on them, particularly 

with regards to their mutually lacking state of matrimonial bliss and whether 

or not they would end that state any time in the immediate future. The favored 

outcome among the hopelessly romantic was, of course, that they would 

discover some previously unsuspected wild passion for one another, and fall 

into one anothers' arms as a matter of course.

 

It would, in the estimation of both, happen shortly after the hells froze 

over solidly, for Ryuu-ou was opposed to the institution of marriage as a 

matter of principle and Ashura-ou was contemplating granting another the 

supreme honor of dragging him to the altar. It was an excellent time for it, 

as, in the anticipation of all, peace may very well have been won for their time. 

 

Years of careful planning had come to fruition in the western and 

northern campaigns of the summer, autumn, and winter past — the executors 

of those plans were to be honored for their part in driving back, hopefully for 

another full generation, the Mazuko tribes with whom they cohabited in less 

than neighborly fashion. The plans had been Ashura-ou's; the execution had 

been entrusted to the armies under the command of the Bushinshou and the 

Shitennou, for Ashura-ou's own place was at the side of the Emperor, and 

whose blade was raised only in his defense. Many had distinguished 

themselves in the service of the Emperor, and they had been called to 

Zenmi-jou to be honored for that service; Ryuu-ou was herself one, and 

another the Raijin Taishakuten.

 

"Taishakuten?" Ashura-ou's questioning tone drew her out of her 

contemplations, and she glanced at him as they entered the long gallery 

that led to the inner chambers of the palace, and the throne room itself.

 

"What of him?" A tiny thrill of unease traveled up her spine, as it 

always did, at the sound of that name.

 

"You murmured his name aloud, Ryuu-ou--has he been much in 

your thoughts?" His tone, though a questioning one, was otherwise entirely 

neutral, as was his face, his golden eyes a mirror; she wondered, for an instant, 

what he was thinking.

 

"Don't you start, too — the Raijin's bachelorhood has been widely 

commented on among the officers of my army...as has his excellent beauty, 

which vies with his arrogance for his most striking attribute." Ryuu-ou 

snorted in a completely uncourtly fashion. "It's lucky that I know all my men 

are loyal to me personally or I might feel threatened by the force of that 

man's charisma."

 

"I must admit, I have heard a great deal of him but know very little 

about him." Ashura-ou's tone made that slightly less a statement of ignorance 

than a declaration of his intention to learn more. "You have served with him?"

 

"I have had that...honor. Before our forces split, and he went in 

pursuit of our enemies' northbound army." A small shudder traveled through 

her as she remembered — it had been a dark time, and even Ashura's tactical 

acumen had been pressed to its limits, when faced with an enemy that 

outnumbered them almost ten-to-one.

 

"What did you think of him?" Again, that neutral questioning, and 

Ryuu-ou would have given a casket of her finest pearls to know what was 

going on inside Ashura's mind as he asked it.

 

"I thought then, and I still think now, that something is eating at him,

devouring him from within." She paused, and searched for the correct words 

to phrase her intuition. "He seems...driven. Dangerously so. I suspect that, 

lacking a family and a clan to give him position, he has been hardened in 

ways that you or I have not been — we are both warriors, but we were also 

the heirs of our fathers, and given all that we needed from birth to fulfill 

our obligations to this position. Taishakuten fought his way into the 

position he now occupies, and I expect that before he came to it, he had 

more than his fair share of being pushed back down ungently."

 

"I am told that he is arrogant enough to be a high king in his own 

right," Ashura-ou glanced at her as a soft laugh escaped her lips.

 

"Oh, he is that — arrogant. He carries himself as though he already 

wears a crown, and leads a clan that bears his name. But only in certain 

company." A wry smile curled her lips. "Most of my general staff, for example. 

You could have pasted feathers to him and called him a game cock the first 

time he met them — I was ready to make a bet on who would draw first, him 

or General Shinjousho!"

 

"Who did?" Wryly.

 

"Neither. They eventually settled down and behaved themselves quite 

nicely once I brought out the battle plans. When he is not armoring himself 

in that attitude, Taishakuten is almost rather bearable. He is no fool, and did 

not gain his rank for no better reason than flattering the right fools at the right 

time...not that I think he has it in him to actually stroke anyone's self-love even if it 

would gain him any favor. He is very proud, and very confident, and very, 

very bitter." She paused. "I think he may bear watching in the future, 

Ashura-ou, for I could not swear that he does not covet your position, as the 

first warrior of Tenkai."

 

"We will deal with that when it comes — if it comes."  Ashura-ou 

stopped within sight of the throne room doors, and turned to face her, the 

court mask flickering away from his eyes and allowing her a brief glimpse 

within. "I have not yet thanked you, Nagaina, for coming home safely. I 

would have missed you horribly had some misfortune of battle befallen you, 

and I was left alone at this court without some bastion of sanity."

 

A smile of genuine pleasure came to Ryuu-ou's lips. "You should 

know by now, Ashura, that it will take far more than ten-to-one odds and the 

arrogance of hungry young thunder gods to keep me from coming back here 

to harass you on a regular basis. But I thank you...for it is good to know that 

the greatest warrior of the heavenly realm personally intercedes with the 

fortunes of battle for my safety!"

 

As they crossed the threshold of the throne room and into the 

presence of the Emperor, Ryuu-ou murmured softly, trying to sound uncurious, 

"So...tell me...who do you plan to marry?"

 

***

 

Ashura-ou gazed out over the assembled court with such complete 

serenity, such an air of cool dignity, that even the royal rumormongers who

made their lives analyzing his every change of posture and expression could 

have said that there was anything wrong with him. He stood to the Emperor's 

right, as was proper for the first defender of the imperial person, and the 

Guardian of the Realm; opposite him, Kisshouten, the Emperor's daughter and 

the future Empress, watched the spectacle with visible pleasure, her beauty 

and grace perfect, in all the things the child of the proudest clan in the 

Tenkai. Around them, the four Shitennou of the Heavenly Court occupied 

the four cardinal points of the compass--Ryuu-ou in the west, Yasha-ou in 

the north, Karura-ou in the south, and Kendappa-ou in the east. In their center, 

of course, the Emperor himself lounged in his throne, resplendent in the robes of his 

office and making witty comments that caused his lovely daughter to grace 

them all with her pure laughter and, thankfully, lifting the burden of 

conversation almost entirely off Ashura-ou's shoulders.

 

_The gods, but I hate court functions_. The thought finally articulated  itself through the exhausted haze his mind was swimming in, and Ashura barely  managed to keep from smiling at the momentary relief it gave him to admit it,  if only to himself. The assembly of the Heavenly Court and these displays of  very obvious power and largesse were an exotic form of torture even when he  was feeling perfectly at his ease, with nothing at all to trouble him; with  broken sleep and visions that never fully went away hanging before his eyes,  it was even worse. Only the fact that he had long ago learned how to lock  every muscle in place without appearing stiff or tense kept him in that posture; otherwise, his shoulders might have slumped under the weariness pressing down on him, and the flawlessness he was noted for would have been something less than...perfect. 

 

He lowered his lashes for a moment as a vision swam briefly before 

his golden eyes; the picture he presented was one of respectful contemplation 

of the lords and generals arranged before them. It refused to focus, to 

cohere enough to be clearly seen, and a sharp pain lanced through his 

temples as it dissipated back into the oracular trance from which it had 

emerged. They were coming often now, more and more painfully, and 

each one added to his own dark certainty....

 

He sensed, rather than saw, Ryuu-ou tense at his side; she had 

never acquired much of a courtly mask, and little was required to make her 

cast what she did possess aside. He lifted his eyes to take in fully the 

entourage offering its obeisance to the Emperor and the assembled court.

 

"Raijin Taishakuten," Ryuu-ou spoke in an undertone, for his benefit, 

and ignorant of the knowledge that Ashura-ou knew the Raijin's face and 

form well, though they had never before met.

 

He was, Ashura-ou thought with supreme dispassion, even more 

beautiful than his own visions had led him to think. The Raijin was tall, 

taller than himself by several inches, wider across the chest and shoulders, 

and more visibly powerful of build. Corded muscle covered by pale skin 

rippled beneath the presentational clothing he wore — clothing that pulled 

taut at every smoothly polished motion, and revealed his power rather 

than concealed it. Silver hair cascaded unbound to his waist, stirring 

almost as in a gentle breeze; his colors were all the same shades, storm

cloud grey, snow silver, lightning white. His six companions — the entourage 

that he had traveled to Zenmi-jou with — were all dressed similarly and all 

followed his lead in nearly everything. He seemed to shimmer slightly 

in the indirect light of the throne room as he held his bow, waiting for 

the Emperor's acknowledgment before he rose, but Ashura-ou could still see 

precisely what Ryuu-ou had meant: the gesture of honorable submission 

did not suit him at all. He might be of humble birth, but there was 

nothing common within him; there stood a god, born to rule.

 

He heard the Emperor speak as though from a great distance, 

acknowledging Taishakuten's obeisance and bidding him rise. The Raijin 

did so, straightening to his full, commanding height, his head settling at an 

angle distinctly contrary to his submissiveness of the moment before, 

stormlight-silver eyes flickering over the faces of the assembled court as 

he inclined his head in greeting — the gesture of equals to one another. 

 

Ashura-ou suppressed a smile at the distinctly displeased rumble that 

came from the direction of Kendappa-ou's warrior husband; Jikokuten did 

not appreciate elegant displays of arrogance, particularly when his wife was 

one of the recipients of them. He heard Taishakuten speaking and, though he 

had avoided it, and knew he must continue to do so for the sake of his own 

sanity, he allowed his eyes to be drawn to the Raijin's face.

 

It was a mistake. Oh, it was a mistake, and he knew it immediately.

Taishakuten's gaze touched his own, and the instant it did, he could no longer 

look away. He no longer had any desire to look away. All the shades of 

cloud rippled in his eyes, pale silver-grey and flickering with the light of the 

storm, the glitter of lightning. They held him without even trying, for he 

knew that Taishakuten was looking at him now, as trapped as he and as 

unable to turn aside. A strange expression was coming into them, a true 

Expression for, unlike Ryuu-ou, the Raijin knew how to hide himself 

from the eyes of others, and what Ashura-ou was seeing now had not been 

meant for any sort of public revelation. Longing. Need. Hunger. 

Ashura-ou stared helplessly into the eyes of the man he knew would be 

both his lover and his death, and for the briefest of moments knew complete 

peace.

 

It required an almost physical effort to avert his eyes, wrenching 

his gaze away from Taishakuten's with a publicly acceptable lowering of 

his lashes, though the rest of his body remained perfectly still. The 

connection snapped, the brief peace he had felt fled, and it took all of his 

will and centuries of training to keep from reacting visibly to its loss. It

could not have lasted for more than a moment, and still his soul could not 

have been more deeply touched, more utterly shaken, and he silently longed 

for the peace and stillness of Ashura-jou in which to regain his mental balance, 

restore himself to the perfect calm that he projected and had never felt less.

 

***

 

The wait had been interminable, and it was only the first of many 

annoyances which Taishakuten was confronted with, though, by far, the 

easiest to endure. The basic truism of military life was that, for the majority 

of the time, it was usually a case of hurrying up in order to wait; it was 

simply easier to endure the waiting if the end result was watching a well-

planned action unfold to magnificent effect. Having to wait to be ushered 

into the presence of the Emperor and the rest of the Heavenly Court because of 

the inevitable vicissitudes of court politics was simply an annoying variation 

on the theme. Taishakuten made up his mind to wait patiently, because no 

one expected him to, and surprised everyone in his immediate vicinity by 

making pleasant and well-informed conversation will all who addressed him 

and displaying more charm than he'd cared to for as long as he'd held any 

sort of rank. It was, he thought with a certain wry humor, better than fuming, 

and almost as amusing as watching the three junior officers he had brought 

with him gawk at the splendor of Zenmi-jou, and the other three, slightly 

more experienced, make self-deprecating comments to the pretty courtiers they 

were attempting to woo. If nothing else, everything they experienced here 

would teach them something about the nature of court and its politics, and 

he doubted they would actually get into serious trouble...though they might 

never recover from the attentions of the capital's particularly fine breed of 

courtesans, and would be ruined for life for lesser whores. A faintly wistful 

smile crawled onto Taishakuten's face as he remembered his own first visit 

to Zenmi-jou as a very junior officer....

 

...And his only real reason for wanting to return now, though nothing  could have made him betray that to the courtiers he waited out the inevitable  delays with. Politics, he told himself firmly, and almost believed it, for the  high ranks of the Tenkai's military were nearly as politicized as the circle of  its noble families; if he wished to rise higher, he needed to cultivate the good  will of the Emperor and the Court. Taishakuten had  been telling himself that for years, and listening diligently to the advice of the old attendant who had come to his service when he was granted the office of Raijin--the advice that, if he never spoke of it, then the man he constructed in his own mind would never be able to match the reality, and he would be doomed to inevitable disappointment in what he found.

 

Ashura-ou. His throat tightened slightly at the mere thought, and 

the realization that neither time, nor his diligent attempts to forget, had 

dimmed the memory of him, the single sight he had had of the young lord 

of the Ashura clan, recently come to his throne, hundreds of years previously. 

Of course, if he had been serious about forgetting it, he would have resigned 

his commission and pursued some course that would not have required him 

to read dispatches and orders written in Ashura-ou's fine hand and sealed 

with the arms of his clan, nor have casually pumped Ryuu-ou for all the 

information she was worth while on campaign with her in the west. He 

would not be woken by dreams that he would actually struggle to recall in 

every detail. And he most certainly would not have come to Zenmi-jou 

again, no matter how polite the command had been, he acknowledged to 

himself.

 

The procession had begun moving again, almost without him noticing 

it, and he quietly blessed the advantage of his height. He caught a glimpse 

of gold-and-white, and then a flash of fiery hair and liquid blue-green. 

Taishakuten repressed a reflexive smile  — Ryuu-ou, in her place at Ashura-ou's 

back, one of the few who deserved the honor of guarding it. He had been 

forced to revise his opinion of noble-officers somewhat after meeting her, for 

the woman was all things he appreciated in both allies and adversaries: fierce, 

canny, quick and accurate in her judgements, and just hot-headed enough to 

take a risk and make it show positive results. The fact that she probably didn't 

trust him as far as she could have thrown him simply meant she was wiser 

than she was reputed to be in most cases; her reputation for impulsiveness 

often masked her very real intuition. Her aquamarine eyes found him, and her 

posture changed slightly, a tensing across the shoulders, her hands uncurling 

from their loose clench. She was, he noted with some amusement, ready 

to vault the railing and draw at the slightest provocation, her body language 

speaking protectiveness — though of whom, he didn't guess until he saw her 

lips moving, forming his name. Speaking to the man who stood in front, 

and slightly to the right, of her. Then Taishakuten himself was before the 

throne and offering his homage to the Emperor, the Shitennou, and his 

favorites, in that order, his lips automatically forming the courtly phrases 

of polite conversation, while his eyes struggled to rest anywhere but on 

the one he had come to see, heart suddenly pounding. In fear. And need.

 

He felt the delicate pressure of eyes upon him and, though he struggled 

against the need to do it, he looked up and into them. They were the warm 

golden of sunset over the northern mountains, and yet they were not themselves 

warm in expression; they glittered, almost feverishly, and defeated all attempts 

to look too deeply into them. And yet he could not look away. They were set 

deeply in a face of impossible beauty, of transcendent elegance and grace, but 

they were all he noticed, all he could see. Fire flickered in the light of their 

depths, and drew him in like wind into a conflagration, heat rushing through 

his body from the contact, and, for an instant, he forgot entirely how to 

breathe, how to think, how to do anything other than hold, and be held by, 

those glorious golden eyes. Drowning in their beauty, and the promise of 

peace he felt written there but could not see.

 

Ashura-ou glanced down, releasing him, the motion hidden as his long, 

thick lashes veiled his sunlit eyes, and Taishakuten almost reeled on his feet-

the loss was almost physical, and almost physically painful, shockingly intense. 

He heard, as though from a great distance, the Emperor, offering him the reward 

of his choosing.

 

He suddenly knew exactly what it would be.

  
  
  
  



End file.
